I do see your point, however, and it leads me to wonder: Who is it that defines a genre? The writers? The publishers? The bookstore buyers? Or the readers?

My first, tongue in cheek (sort of) response was that literary scholars define genres, but I’m pretty sure that to non-academics, the answer is very different. I see the word “define” as pretty strong and, well, definitive, but I’m starting to understand beter that not everyone has the same perception of the act of defining. My own answer is that readers help shape a genre, as do publishers and authors (especially). But obviously there are many people who think that it’s primarily readers who define a genre. Would the same argument be made about the length and form of a sonnet, though? I guess it depends on how you define genre to being with.

I might be persuaded to view it as a romance, but I think that many romance readers would be frustrated if they found a book with such a storyline on the romance shelf of their bookstore. I also don’t believe there are many writers with Emily Bronte’s ability to craft such a satisfying and optimistic ending out of this kind of tale.

I do see your point, however, and it leads me to wonder: Who is it that defines a genre? The writers? The publishers? The bookstore buyers? Or the readers?

. . .the more I think about it the more I think that some of the deepest pleasure I get from reading romances comes from those swooningly romantic moments. If a book is successful in evoking that kind of emotion in me, I do not want the couple to separate or one of them to die. It’s not my idea of emotionally satisfying or optimistic.

I understand what you’re saying here, Janine (I keep wnting to spell your name Jeanine, because a friend of mine spells hers that way, and she’s the only Jeanine I know), but I think my focus tends to be more on the central love relationship as definitive of Romance than on the end, per se. In fact, I’ve been thinking a lot about whether I would argue now that Wuthering Heights is a proto-Romance, and not just romantic (and Romantic). Because for me, the relationship between Heathcliff and Katherine so overshadows everything else in that book, not only in the writing, but in the plot itself. And while both leads die, the book ends optimistically, IMO, with the promise of family healing for future generations (and a fruitful romantic attachment between the families) and the reuniting of Heathcliff and Katherine, ostensibly forever. This is a little bit of a change in my own thinking, but even though I don’t find WH particularly romantic (although I don’t find Jane Eyre romantic, either), I’m thinking it might satisfy my own criteria for a Romance with an emotionally satisfying but unconventional ending.

But why? Well, in my mind (and I’m only claiming it for myself, not putting the presumption on anyone else) because of how it ended, how the romance between the two of them is ended, there’s not even promise of a happily ever after for the two of them.

And for it to be a romance, I need that emotional satisfaction that comes at the end, that things they’re going to be happy and escape life’s tragedies. So heck yeah, there was romance, it was romantic, but it wasn’t “a” romance.

Carry on.

It’s not a matter of definitions, but again, of expectations.

To me, anyway, expectations and definitions are not necessarily synonymous, although I think they are conflated often enough in discussions of genre fiction.

I have nothing against the H EA in Romance, and, in fact, find a convincing HEA wonderfully appealing. Where I get nervous, though, is in saying that Romance is “defined” by the HEA, because, for example, when Jan Butler tried to make that argument about male/female Romance, it didn’t fly for readers (including me) who believe that m/m or f/f Romance also fit in the RWA “definition” of Romance. So since there is also ambiguity in the way the RWA defines the end of a Romance, I feel like somewhat of a hypocrite in taking whatever my expectation for an HEA ending might be and insisting it’s a definitional requirement. I’m not saying this is the case for other readers, but since I don’t think Butler had the right to limit Romance in the way she did, neither do I think I can definitely say that Romance — by definition — requires an HEA. I’d love to know how other readers who don’t find this to be a contradiction resolve it, because I can’t seem to.

It’s difficult, I think, in today’s Romance market to see the genre as separate from the HEA because the love relationship is so often characterized as destined or as “THE ONEâ€Â? which seems to make the HEA a logical requirement. BUT if the genre evolved a little, and became less reliant on that “fatedâ€Â? aspect of the love relationship, I could see more types of endings that would be “optimisticâ€Â? and “emotionally satisfyingâ€Â? without having the HEA as we know it today.

This is a thought-provoking conversation, but the more I think about it the more I think that some of the deepest pleasure I get from reading romances comes from those swooningly romantic moments. If a book is successful in evoking that kind of emotion in me, I do not want the couple to separate or one of them to die. It’s not my idea of emotionally satisfying or optimistic.

If a book is not successful in evoking that feeling in me, then it’s somewhat disappointing, and I don’t see how having the couple part or having one of them die will make it more satisfying or optimistic.

About whether I want to the focus of romance to shift away from the other person being THE ONE and the two characters being destined for one another, I have only found a few books that make me feel that way in the first place. But I love those books, and I wish there were more, not less.

What I would like is for the characters in many romances to stop acting as though they know the other person is THE ONE from the moment they meet. How would they know that? I want more realism and less fantasy in my books, but the reason I want it is because greater realism can enhance the romantic fantasy.

What I’m looking for in a romance is a romantic relationship that I can imagine will continue happily for the most part. I don’t demand a lot of the things that many other readers demand, such as complete monogamy even before marriage much less after, or no long separations, or for the heroine to be a near-virgin. But I do want to believe that they will be happy together.

Do I like a really good HEA? Sure — I find that emotionally satisfying and optimistic. But if an author can convince me that a character’s death or a break-up is the not something to brood over, then yes, I can embrace Romance without the HEA. As it is, I don’t think many of these couples will make it in the long run, anyway! And do we really want all those people staying together for the sake of the children?

I don’t usually judge the relationships I read about in romances in that way. Most of the time I can imagine them okay together. Not that they are destined, or amazingly right for each other (except in a few books), but that their relationship will work, yes. I don’t think it’s that hard to make a relationship work if both people are committed to that goal.

And I think it would be far, far harder for an author to convince me that a hero or heroine’s death or a breakup is not something to brood over.

Stories where lovers die, part, change their mind, sacrifice love for the greater good? All can be compelling reading, wonderful, satisfying stories. But not what the Romance reader is looking for, paying for, when they deliberately, specifically pick up a Romance novel.

Writers and publishers within the genre know this perfectly well. If we want to tell a story that won’t meet, can’t meet, shouldn’t meet that basic expectation, we just can’t call it a Romance Novel.

There’s a difference between evolving and mutating. Once you remove one of the essential elements that forms a Romance Novel, it’s another animal altogether.